


How to Torment Your Family in Six Short Courses

by McBangle



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Dinner, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Humor, Meet the Family, Meet-Cute, Swearing, if you don't like swearing then this may not be the fic for you, so so much swearing, the shitty knight family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 01:16:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8947426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McBangle/pseuds/McBangle
Summary: Shitty answers an ad from a certain art student proposing to pretend to be his girlfriend with the express purpose of pissing off his family on Christmas. Mischief ensues.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Check, Please! 12 Days of Christmas 2016, Day 11 – Holiday Feast  
> Inspired by [this prompt](http://shittyxlardo.tumblr.com/post/153407275352/dadbob-orchidbreezefc-its-that-time-of-year). I said I would write it, and I did!

 

 

> **Single on Christmas? Want to piss off your family?**
> 
> I am a directionless Asian-American art student with an undercut and a talent for creative swearing. I am 18 but can play anywhere up to 22 with the right outfit. If you’d like to have me as your strictly platonic date for Christmas, but have me pretend to be in a very long or serious relationship with you to torment your family, I’m game.
> 
> I can do these things, at your request:
> 
> Openly hit on other guests – any gender – while you act like you don’t notice.
> 
> Start instigative discussions about politics and/or religion.
> 
> Propose to you in front of everyone.
> 
> Drink your entire family under the table.
> 
> I require no pay but the free meal I will receive as a guest!

Shitty chucked his cell phone aside and tackled his best friend. “Jack, you beautiful bastard. I think I’ve found the perfect date for my grandparents’ Christmas dinner.”

* * *

**Cocktail Hour**

“And where, pray tell, is this lady friend of yours, Bertrand?” Shitty’s actually-pretty-fuckin’-shitty grandmother sniffed. “I don’t know how that mother of yours raised you, but _proper_ ladies and gentlemen know to always arrive on time to a dinner party.”

Shitty threw back another Scotch. “She’s on her way, Grandmother.” She was always Grandmother; never Grandma or Nana or Grams. Shitty had made that mistake as a kid. He knew better now. “And I’ve told you, call me Shitty.”

“Bertrand.” Grandfather Knight set down his highball glass with a clang. “For the last time, your grandmother and I will not call you by that vulgar nickname.”

Rudolph yawned. “Just humor your grandparents, Bertrand.” Typical. Shitty’s father had never stood up to his parents on his behalf a day in his life.

Shitty clenched a fist in the goddamn suit pants that Rudolph had insisted he wear.

At the agreed-upon time – 8:05 PM, just late enough to drive his grandmother crazy, but not so late that they would start eating without her – the doorbell rang. Shitty could make out a muffled conversation between Maria, his grandparents’ ever-suffering maid, and a louder, bawdier voice. Moments, later, Maria entered the sitting room, wringing her hands in her apron.

“A Miss Duan is here to see you.”

“Ho, ho, ho, mothafuckas! Where’s the grub?” Lardo waltzed into the room like she goddamn owned it, flopped sideways on Great-Grandmother Armentrout’s antique armchair and propped her feet on Grandmother’s prized Chippendale end table.

Rudolph cleared his throat and looked nervously from his father to his mother. “Miss Duan, is it?” He tentatively held out a hand as if he feared that Lardo might bite it.

“Miss Duan is my aunt. Call me Lardo or Lards.” Lardo popped a bubble, then speared her gum on one finger and wiped it on the bottom of Shitty’s great-grandmother’s priceless chair.

She was a motherfucking beaut. This was the best decision Shitty had made in his life.

Grandmother looked like she was about to choke.

“Did I miss cocktail hour?” Lardo looked about expectantly.

“Bertrand, make your guest a drink, and then it’s time we retire to the dining room so the help can clean up this room,” Grandfather Knight intoned ominously.

Shitty could not possibly have hopped to more eagerly if he’d tried. “What’ll it be?”

“Open bar?” Lardo glanced about for confirmation

“This is a _private residence_ ,” Grandmother hissed.

“’Swawesome! Then give me a shot of the most expensive thing you’ve got that will fuck me up the fastest.”

“Young lady, we don’t ‘do shots’ in this house. I don’t know what kind of ruffians raised you but–”

“We’re all drinking 18 year old Scotch tonight,” Shitty cut off his grandmother.

“Sweet! Make me a double.” Lardo stood up and stretched, giving the Knight grandparents a clear look at her outfit: a Black Lives Matter sweatshirt, ripped jeans, and paint-streaked sneakers with one sole half off.

Grandmother gasped. “I don’t know what my grandson told you, but this is a formal Christmas dinner.”

Lardo looked over her outfit and then back up at Grandmother in puzzlement. “I did a fresh load of laundry yesterday.”

* * *

**Soup**

“Fuuuucking A, this soup is the _shit_!” Lardo waved her spoon in the air to emphasize her words. “Did you put lobster in here?”

“It is chowder.” Grandmother sighed, squeezing the bridge of her nose. “Lobster corn chowder, and _yes_ it has lobster.”

“Fake or real?”

Grandfather Knight looked up from blotting at the lobster corn chowder splattered on his silk tie. “What are you accusing us of faking?”

“Lobster. Not accusing, just asking. Is it real lobster or the fake kind?”

“What in the world is fake lobster?” Grandmother squinted.

Lardo glanced about as if she hadn’t expected this line of questioning. “It’s less expensive fish, made to look and taste like lobster.”

“Good lord! Who would ever eat that?”

Shitty rubbed his hands together. Time for a debate; his favorite part of every Knight family event. “The ninety-nine percent of the population who weren’t born wealthy and actually have to work to eat. Don’t they deserve a nice meal? If they can’t afford lobster, why can’t they eat imitation lobster and feel rich if that makes them happy? I’m sure _you’d_ say” – he gestured to his grandfather – “that people struggling to put food on the table are somehow morally inferior, but…”

“ _Enough_ , Bertrand,” Rudolph sighed.

“Tedious,” Grandfather Knight sniffed.

“Poor people can eat whatever they want, but in my opinion this imitation lobster sounds absolutely hideous!” Grandmother declared.

“UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURP!” Lardo let loose a good 3 second belch right in Grandmother’s face. “Wow!” she grinned. “That tasted almost as good coming up as it did going down!”

* * *

**Fish**

Grandfather Knight cleared his throat for the third time.

Finally, Lardo glanced up at him, pinky still lodged firmly in her ear. “Do you have a cold or something?”

“Young lady, is there something wrong with your ear? Do you require medical attention?”

“No, I’ve got it,” Lardo replied cheerfully. She twisted her pinky one more time, then extracted a large chunk of blackened wax. “Noooooice!” She showed it off to the table before wiping it on the tablecloth. “Do you think if I’d left it in there long enough, it would have turned into a diamond?”

* * *

**Main course**

In the midst of yet another argument between Shitty and Grandfather Knight, Lardo snaked her left arm onto Rudolph’s right one. She patted it several times and smiled drunkenly up at him.

“Can I help you?” he asked, bemused.

“You have nice arms.” She trailed a fingertip along his forearm. “Strong. You work out, don’t you?”

“Oh… er… I…”

“Bertrand,” Grandmother warned.

“In a minute, Grandmother, I’m busy!” Shitty turned back to his grandfather, pretending to be oblivious to what was happening right next to him.

Rudolph yelped as Lardo dropped her hand to his thigh. “I can see where Shitty gets his good looks from.”

He plucked her sleeve between his thumb and forefinger and dropped her hand back into her own lap. “I’d advise you to keep your hands to yourself, Miss Duan.”

* * *

**Dessert**

Lardo released a near-orgasmic moan as she tasted her first forkful of Bananas Foster. “Sweet baby Jesus, that is ’swawesome. I can tell you used the good rum in this. Not the cheap stuff Shits barfed up on me last weekend.” She gagged.

“Bad memory?” Rudolph looked half disgusted, half sympathetic.

Lardo held both hands up to her mouth and gagged again. “I think… maybe I need some fresh air.”

Shitty jumped to pull out her seat. “Can I get you anything?”

“Not another drink. I believe she’s had a few too many tonight,” Grandfather Knight sneered.

“No, that’s not…” Lardo put her head between her knees and took a deep breath. “That’s not it. I just… I thought this was only supposed to happen in the morning.”

The room went dead silent.

“You couldn’t possibly…” Grandmother began.

“Merry Christmas,” Lardo looked up, smiling weakly. “I’m pregnant.”

“With… Bertrand’s…?” For once in his life, Rudolph didn’t seem to know quite what to say. Shitty didn’t either. This hadn’t been in the plan he and Lardo had drawn up together, although he _had_ told her to be creative and have fun, so… maybe she was being creative?

“Uh… maybe? I guess we’ll find out when I pop the little fucker out.” Lardo smiled up at them all with a shit-eating grin. “But after tonight, I’m pulling for Shits because I’m guessing the kid and me would be set for life. You guys have some _nice_ -ass shit.”

* * *

**Coffee**

“Well.” Grandmother set down her fork. “Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.” She pushed away from the table.

“Ahem. Grandmother?” Shitty asked. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Hm?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Coffee,” he offered.

“Oh. Well. No.” She ran a hand across the back of her neck. “Your young lady shouldn’t be drinking caffeine in her… delicate condition. It’s not good for the baby’s development.”

Lardo snorted. “I just drank, what, six scotches tonight? I think a coupla ’spressos are the last thing we need to worry about,” she slurred.

“Nonetheless,” Grandmother continued, “there will be no coffee course tonight. We are all out of coffee. I gave it up for the New Year.”

Maria took two steps into the dining room carrying Grandmother’s sterling silver coffee set before swiveling and marching back into the kitchen.

“It’s still one more week until New Year’s,” Shitty helpfully pointed out.

“I’ve started early this year.”

 

As soon as the Knight Manor door latched securely behind them, Shitty let out a whoop and spun Lardo around in the air.

“Not too much?” she asked, cricking her neck.

“Are you fucking kidding me? That was the most glorious Knight Family Christmas of my life! I owe you big time!”

“No way, brah.” Lardo rolled her shoulders and straightened, her entire posture visibly changing. She appeared more at ease than she had all night. “I told you, my only payment is Christmas dinner and frankly, I think you overpaid. All I was expecting when I placed that ad was overcooked ham and bland veggies. Does your family always eat like kings?”

“The Knight side of the family? Pretty much, yeah. They yearn for the days when the family ate at Court on a regular basis.” Lardo laughed. “I’m fuckin’ serious. I come from a family of fuckin’ bourgeois assholes!”

She smiled fondly. “Yeah, I noticed. How did someone like you end up coming from a family like that?”

“Two parts fucking ’swawesome mom who raised me right, one part stubborn streak the size of the Grand Canyon.” Shitty hoped to high holy hell that it was dark enough outside tonight that Lardo wouldn’t see the blush on his cheeks. “So, uh, how much of that was you tonight and how much was an act?”

“Eh, about 80/20,” Lardo estimated. “I usually try to clean up more before meeting my friends’ families, and BTW, I’m not pregnant.”

“’Swawesome! …I mean, it would be cool if you were. Actually, it wouldn’t be any of my damn business. Your body, your choice.” _Fuckin’ hell_! Shitty was ready to kick himself for that slut-shamey, possessive bit of crapitude. He’d spent most of his life trying to counteract all of the retrograde horseshit his grandparents put out into this world, and all it took was a pretty girl smiling at him before he started acting like a total assface. Shit, fuck, _woman_ , she was a woman, not a girl, _goddamnit, Shitty_.

Fortunately, Lardo didn’t seem to be nearly as bothered by Shitty’s outburst as he was. “I just feel bad that I didn’t deliver on everything I’d promised,” she apologized. “I did my best to drink your family under the table, but _damn_ your family can hold their liquor.”

Shitty laughed bitterly. “Yeah, sorry, I should’ve warned you that wouldn’t work. The elder Knights are all functional alcoholics.”

Lardo shivered. _Fuck_! He’d made her stand outside in the snow on Christmas in Massachusetts. He was such a fucking cockhole! He started to shrug out of his coat, then mentally cursed himself for that bit of useless chivalry before digging his car keys out of his pocket. “Let’s get in the car. Come on. You’ve got to be freezing.”

 

Shitty cranked the car heater up to its highest setting. Lardo blew on her fingers and rubbed her hands together while she waited for the hot air to kick in.

“Hang on, I’ve got a blanket in here somewhere.” Shitty leaned halfway over the front seat and sorted through empties, fast food wrappers, and a volume of unidentifiable trash that would probably horrify anyone else before dragging out a strange-smelling, possibly sticky but definitely warm wool blanket. Lardo accepted it with surprising nonchalance.

“This is more than big enough for two. Come on, snuggle under.”

No one ever had to ask Shitty more than once for a snuggle. He wrapped the proffered end of the blanket around his shoulders and nestled in.

“So.” He cleared his throat. “I kind of feel like I owe you a coffee.”

“Brah, I already told you. You owe me _nothing_. That dinner was _amazing_. And to be honest, the company wasn’t half bad, either.”

He snorted.

“…Well, _your_ company, anyway,” she continued, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“No, really, I promised you a Christmas dinner, but I got you kicked out before coffee,” he argued.

“Are you fucking with me?” She wrinkled her nose. “ _I_ got us kicked out, and by design. We’re good. I mean, unless _you’d_ wanted to stay for coffee?” She gestured toward his grandparents’ front door.

“ _Fuck_ , no!” Shitty protested. He fiddled with the edge of the blanket. “But… I’d like to grab a coffee with you… I mean, if you wanted coffee. No biggie. It’s cool, I’ll drive you home.”

“Oh.” Lardo’s face brightened. “Oh, yeah, I’d love some coffee.”

“Annie’s run?”

“Fuck yeah, Annie’s run.” She laced her fingers with his and gave his hand a squeeze.

Best. Goddamn. Christmas. Ever.


End file.
